


The luckless Alfrid Lickspittle (and his misadventures with his hot boyfriend's kids)

by Mozzarella



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, Disabled Character, M/M, Scoliosis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfrid hates people. Kids are, well, tiny people. And people have always hated him.</p><p>So how is it that he got roped into babysitting his gorgeous boyfriend's genetically-blessed kids while said boyfriend is away for a few days, to see to a promising job offer that might finally pay him what he deserves?</p><p>And how is it that he got roped into getting a boyfriend in the first place? Especially one as disgustingly wonderful as Bard? </p><p>(In which the anti-social Alfrid has to bond with the Bardlings, deal with a the crappiest boss who ever lived, and with the fact that his boyfriend's ex--as gorgeous and rich as Alfrid... isn't--is hanging about)</p><p>(and the pain. Mustn't forget the pain)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The luckless Alfrid Lickspittle (and his misadventures with his hot boyfriend's kids)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PixelHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelHeart/gifts).



> This has been sitting in my fic folder for a little while now, but since I haven't posted anything lately, I thought I might as well post this. 
> 
> Alfrid has scoliosis! Which is my modern era explanation for his gait and posture. I wish there were more Alfrid fics, he's such an interesting character to explore. 
> 
> Enjoy the show!
> 
> (recently gifted to PixelHeart for being my primary Bard/Alfrid [Balfrid] inspiration)

Sometimes it seemed to Alfrid that he'd been born the stereotypical villain to a children's story, the kind you saw in those picture books with exaggeratedly funny drawings and even funnier-looking villains.

After all, how else could he explain his unfortunate (and truly, painfully secret last name that he'd take to the grave or the doctor's office) last name, his downright unprepossessing (ugly. He might as well not skirt around the word) features and his hatred of people in general?

Most people passed it off as a joke (and certainly he could find a piddling hundred thousand people who agreed with his assessment of humanity at large), but Alfrid had yet to find any real reason to believe he was wrong about the human race. People were cruel. Kind people were just people who would eventually disappoint him if they stuck around long enough.

So for this reason (and his monobrow making his ever-present scowl seem even more forbidding than usual), Alfrid could not, in any way, understand how he was able to land a boyfriend.

Not just any boyfriend either, but _fucking_ Bard Girion of all people, the Welsh-born personification of perfect man, complete with the good looks, athleticism, and an unrealistic nobility and trust in the human race despite the shit he'd gone through in his life that landed him in such a dead end job, barely enough for a single dad supporting three kids.

The first time they'd met, when Alfrid was overseer and making sure there were no discrepancies in delivery records (except, of course, what he pulled out himself—what? It was a thankless job with arseholes on either side, from his disgusting boss, a particularly repellent man who fancied himself some high brow ponce with aristocratic roots, to the other deliverymen, who would have liked nothing more than to knock him down and beat the shite out of him if he weren't the one handing out the cheques at the end of every week. He deserved a reward for all he had to put up with, and it if meant taking some off the top from what the boss got, it was no real loss to anybody important).

He'd clashed with Bard when he found out the man was pulling extra income between deliveries, which in itself wasn't the worst thing Alfrid had ever caught somebody doing, but he was still happy to report it to keep himself in good graces with their boss.

Nobody liked Alfrid. Bard was nothing new.

But for reasons unknown, Bard didn't show his hatred the way most of the half-wits with big muscles in delivery did. He didn't scowl and silently threaten, he didn't make jokes about Alfrid's stoop or brow or about the dates he'd never get and the family he didn't have.

Bard simply smiled at him, greeted him by name every time he got handed his pay. He even said “thank you”.

It infuriated Alfrid to no end, especially coming from somebody as handsome, as kind, and well-loved, as  _disgustingly_ good as Bard. 

They'd known each other for a good two and a half years before anything happened. To be fair, Alfrid didn't expect  _anything_ to happen at all, but the one time he decided to stay for a company-wide party changed the next year of his life for the better (alright, so even he could admit that he was actually  _happy,_ especially since he was nothing but miserable for most of his adult life). 

He had no real memory of it (less because of the alcohol and more because of the mortification making the memory hazier than it ought to have been for him) but Bard swore on his life that a deeply drunken Alfrid had gotten through at least twelve compliments and six variations of “sexy” while cursing him colourfully for “what he did” and “being so perfect, how could anybody be so perfect?” before Bard (who was himself half drunk and practically tipping over) grabbed him by the collar, shoved them both into the nearest utility closet, and tried to suck his soul out through his mouth and get his hands on every part of the shorter man twice over.

Or so he claimed.

It was apparently his excuse to then plague Alfrid's life for the next couple of months, as if a one-night stand in a broom closet was the obvious prelude to a relationship.

That it  _was_ in fact the prelude to  _their_ relationship didn't count—it wasn't  _obvious._

If he considered himself a normal person, Alfrid was sure he'd have jumped at the idea of a relationship... but no. He wasn't the kind of guy people sought out for anything long-term, or short-term, for that matter.

_Ugly_ , they called him. Sure, he'd take that. 

_A rat,_ they said.  _Untrustworthy. Something wrong with him._

_The outside matches the inside, don't waste your time on him._

Well.

Ugly kid with a stooped back (it took him a good long while for a clinic nurse to have him looked at and figure out why his spine didn't seem to be shaping up the way it ought to, not that any of the other kids cared), bad teeth, and an exaggerated, overhanging brow wasn't exactly on everybody's radar for friendship. Neither did the kid who quickly learned that not trusting kindness was the smartest course of action, since most people who were kind to him either wanted something or weren't really kind.

Which was why he hated Bard so much, when he met him. The guy went against everything he knew about people, which was to say even the nicest guys would inevitably give up when their  _kindness_ wasn't immediately appreciated or accepted. 

He hadn't been sure what Bard thought he was doing, trying to get him out on a date, or something equally juvenile. It took months before he finally accepted going out for a drink, but only because he was too tired and too annoyed to refuse another hundredth time.

It was wonderful. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

 


End file.
